Pearls and Pistol Whipped - Chapter 1
by Hannaho92
Summary: It's funny; the strangest things find you when you're hiding. Ella just wanted a quite coffee in her favourite cafe. But after meeting Sherlock Holmes, the famous detective she's never even heard of, she gets plenty more than she bargained for.


Ella sat in café somewhere in the middle of Camden Town, sipping a Chai Latte and reading a book. As far as she was aware, it was any normal day. Dull. Grey. Raining that kind of rain that didn't feel heavy but soaked your clothes right through. It was the perfect day to hide in a café. The café was relatively empty, the rain forcing many to hurry home, so Ella sat peacefully enough enjoying her Tolkien.

The peace was broken when she overheard two men stood next to her table. Ella looked up from her book. One was very tall, with an overcoat and curly hair, and the other was shorter, visibly more worn but not necessarily older, and slightly blond-ish.

'Hi, I'm really sorry but my friend here suffers from OCD. We always sit at this table, would you mind moving?' said the tall one, putting on a friendly face.

Ella looked at them both and smirked.

'I'm not moving.'

The tall one looked a little shocked, whilst the shorter one tried to smother his grin.

'But his…'

'OCD? It doesn't exist. His shoelaces don't match.'

The two of them looked at the shorter man's feet. Where one of his shoes was cross looped, the other sawtooth tied.

'But you're more than welcome to join me; the booth is plenty big enough.'

Ella went back to her book as the two gentlemen sat down at the desk. The tall one made a show of looking at his menu, whilst the shorter one continued to look at Ella. She waited for him to ask her why she'd be looking at his shoe laces, or call her freak or something. But he didn't.

Eventually, a waitress came over to take their order.

Ella instinctively spoke up for them.

'They'll have a full English and a bacon and brie sandwich. Thanks.'

The waitress smiled and walked away again, leaving the three of them in silence. Both men were staring at her now.

'What made you order that?' said the tall man.

'Because you've obviously dragged your friend out of bed and he'll want something filling, whereas you're too busy checking every face in here to actually eat whatever is put in front of you. Sandwiches are the only things this place packs to take away.'

Ella closed her book, and looked at each of the gentlemen sat at her booth.

'Why did you choose to sit here?' the tall man asked.

'The same reason you wanted to sit here. There are two exits to this place, the front entrance and the one by the toilets. This booth allows you visibility and access to both.'

He smiled, looking almost impressed.

'I don't know what you're smiling at. You look a lot less special now,' replied the shorter man to his friend, smiling widely.

The waitress returned with the men's food.

'Can I get a tea too please?' said the shorter man.

'Sure,' she smiled sweetly.

'Who are you looking for?' Ella asked.

'A Russian gun seller, you?' the tall man replied.

Ella laughed. 'I'm not looking for anyone.'

'No I meant who are you hiding from?'

'No one.'

'But you knew about the exits?' added the shorter man through mouthfuls. The waitress gave him his tea, which he added a small amount of milk to.

'I'm not hiding from anyone specifically. It's just habit now.'

'Habit?'

'Yeah. My dad was a bit of a paranoid freak, and I guess part of it rubbed off on me.'

The shorter man nodded as he continued to eat.

The taller man seemed to lose interest in Ella and continued to scan the café, whilst his friend ate. Ella opened her book again, assuming the conversation had come to an end.

'My name's John by the way. John Watson,' the shorter man said taking another swig of this tea, 'and this breakfast is just what I needed. Thank you.'

'Ella. You're welcome.'

The tall man said nothing but continued to scan the café and the street outside through the large front window.

'My friend here is Sherlock Holmes.'

'Are you police officers?'

Sherlock scoffed.

'No. I'm a doctor, and Sherlock is consultant detective.'

'Hence the Russian gun seller,' Ella said hiding behind her chai latte.

'Yes. I'm hoping he can prove that it is possible to shoot someone through three floors,' Sherlock said, still not looking at Ella.

'Excellent. Well, good luck with that.'

'So what do you do, Ella?' John continued. He'd taken his coat off now and had a knit jumper on. Everything about him seemed calm and friendly, but the way he sat up straight, eyed the room regularly and kept his phone and butter knife close to hand made him look tense.

'She doesn't. She's a perpetual student,' said Sherlock.

Ella smirked.

'What gave it away? Ink stains? My books?'

'The fact you've spent a whole day in a café on a Thursday which is statistically the busiest day of the week,' Sherlock pointed at the latte mug, and the napkins for the three before that.

Ella laughed again.

A bulky looking man came in to the café at that moment, and Sherlock became motionless, as if worried a single movement might spook him. The bulky man spoke some Russian Ella didn't understand to one of the waitresses, who ushered him past the toilets to the other exit.

As soon as the door as closed, Sherlock leapt from his seat, grabbing his coat and was gone. John shuffled around the table to follow him. He chucked a twenty onto the table.

'Thank you, it's been… erm… nice,' and he was off out the back door too.

Ella just shook her head. So bizarre. She packed her things and finished her drink. Stealing half of Sherlock's sandwich, she made it out into the rain.

It's amazing how, even when it's thick with rain, London doesn't stop or slow down. Ella fought through the throng of people to get to the bus stop and got her oyster card out. She'd got it free, and it was a hideously vibrant orange, but she liked it. It made it easy to spot in her bag.

A couple of black cars drove down the bus lane, not uncommon for rush hour, but Ella stepped away from the curb instinctively. She bumped into a large man behind her. He jabbed a needle into her hip, keeping her close so no one could see.

'Ow, what was tha…'

Ella's vision went blurry. Her limbs felt heavy. She was falling.

She was caught up by the man who'd drugged her and shoved into a black car that had pulled up at the bus stop and driven away.


End file.
